


When I’m Set Alight

by ladadadi



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon-typical Slavery, Established Relationship, Lack of Communication, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-09-23 08:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20337355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladadadi/pseuds/ladadadi
Summary: A year after Laurent became King, Berenger was invited to travel with his retinue to Akielon. It was an honor, a royal favor bestowed upon one who had been loyal from the start. It signalled to the entire court that Laurent considered him trustworthy.“I’m not going,” Ancel said.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was _supposed_ to be porn.

A year after Laurent became King, Berenger was invited to travel with his retinue to Akielon. It was an honor, a royal favor bestowed upon one who had been loyal from the start. It signalled to the entire court that Laurent considered him a trustworthy advisor and close confidant. Berenger was deeply flattered, his ears even going a little pink when it was announced to the court. His voice was warm and genuine when he thanked the King, his bow gracefully low. 

“I’m not going,” Ancel said. 

“You _are_ going,” Berenger returned, not looking up from his letter, “because the King wishes to bring a taste of Vere to his new country, and you are the best pet of the court.”

Ancel preened internally but crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll _burn,_” he whined. “Or I’ll get heat exhaustion and die, and then who will suck your cock?”

Berenger snorted. “I’m sure I’ll manage somehow.” He signed the letter with heavy, deliberate strokes, then turned his chair a little towards Ancel. “Besides, you’ll get a whole new wardrobe out of the deal.”

Ancel looked at the thigh extended invitingly from behind the desk. “What kind of wardrobe?”

“Silks,” Berenger said, “and gold and jewelry. To match the Akielon fashions.”

“You’d just like to see me in one of their short skirts.”

Berenger smiled, and there was a fondness to it that made Ancel’s heart jump. “Come here.”

Ancel went. He draped himself over the proffered thigh, arms winding around Berenger’s neck, and Berenger pressed his face to Ancel’s collarbone. “I’ll need you there,” Berenger said, his voice slightly muffled. “You know I’m no good at impressing people on my own.”

“Then I’ll need twice as much jewelry,” said Ancel. He could feel Berenger’s mouth curve against his skin. He stroked his fingers through Berenger’s hair, idly observing where it had begun to thin. “What _would_ you do without me, my lord?”

“Sit around and dream of having my cock sucked, I suppose,” Berenger said, and Ancel threw his head back and laughed.

—

The trip was so uneventful that Ancel half wished they’d be set upon by bandits just to break the monotony. That was hardly likely, though, with the King’s crest emblazoned on their wagons and on the chests of the guards accompanying them. Ancel shared a wagon with two other pets, when they weren’t attending to their own contracts, and amused himself by flirting outrageously with whichever guard was driving. They stayed at inns some nights, where Ancel would share a bath with Berenger until he ended up in his lap or pressed against the bed or once, memorably, held against the wall. More often they slept on the road - Ancel preferred the inns, but Berenger’s tent had its advantages. Namely that the light inside threw their shadows onto the fabric wall, so everyone could see just why Ancel’s contract was so expensive.

Ancel began a habit of braiding his hair back to protect it from the dust of the road. Berenger would carefully unpick it each night, then brush it until it was shining. Ancel noticed Berenger’s face and hands beginning to redden with the sun, so he insisted on applying a thick cream in the morning and at noon meals to prevent damage to his skin. (And if the cream made his palms slick enough to please Berenger after, well, that was simply convenient.) Once or twice he performed an impromptu dance with a broken tent pole and torn rags; later, Berenger took Ancel from behind and whispered sweetly in his ear how beautiful he’d looked. 

On rare occasions, Berenger joined Ancel in the wagon. He did so again the afternoon before they were due to arrive in Ios, waking Ancel from a rather pleasant dream involving the two of them and the King. As it happened, Berenger wanted to discuss the King, or rather something the King had told him. “You know that Damianos does not keep slaves, of course,” Berenger was saying. “But he allows his household to do so, and we must be prepared for it.”

”What’s to prepare for,” said Ancel. “It’s not as if we’ll be speaking with them.”

“No, but the cultural differences are vast. Slaves are often—naked, for example, or at least hardly clothed.”

Ancel shifted on the cot, letting his bare foot slide up Berenger’s calf. “I’ll pretend to be shocked.”

“Ancel,” Berenger said.

“Or is it that you’re _thinking_ about them naked?” Ancel mused, toes pressing now to firm thigh. “Maybe you’re imagining me with one of them, that’s it, it’d be quite the exotic contrast—“

“Ancel,” Berenger said again, and cupped Ancel’s jaw in his hands. “It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

Ancel stared at him. His stomach was a pit. 

Berenger continued. “I know you disliked it before, when that group was at the palace. We can’t avoid them entirely, but we can request servants for our own rooms, or ask that the slaves go unseen. It’s not such a difficult thing.” He stroked a thumb gently over Ancel’s cheek. “I would have you enjoy your time in Akielon.”

Ancel’s heart was pounding so hard he felt briefly dizzy. “All right,” he managed. “I would—I mean, I think I—“

“You don’t have to decide now,” said Berenger.

“Kiss me,” said Ancel, and Berenger did.

—

They agreed to try it, in the spirit of cultural exchange. If they became uncomfortable they would ask for servants. Berenger didn’t like the idea of slavery much either, but he’d read enough Akielon treatises on the practice to understand the context. Ancel just didn’t like the idea of submission with no ulterior motive. “I don’t think you’ve ever done anything without some purpose behind it,” Berenger said in response, toying with the loose waves of Ancel’s hair.

“You say that as if you admire it.”

Even in the dim moonlight, Berenger looked surprised. “I do.”

Ancel pushed himself up onto one elbow, Berenger’s hand falling to his neck. “It’s quite a mercenary attitude, no?”

“It’s drive. Ambition.” Berenger’s fingers found the angle of his shoulder blade, the dip of his spine. “I think often that you could do anything you set your mind to.”

Ancel was glad suddenly that the candle had gone out earlier. “Anything except seduce a Prince.”

“Yes, well, if Damianos is his type—“

“Nothing to be done about the height, but I could begin one of those dreadful weight routines.”

Berenger laughed. “Yes, and eat a dozen eggs at every meal.”

“I can think of another way to get protein,” Ancel said, and swung his leg over Berenger’s hip. Berenger was still laughing when their mouths pressed together. 

When they had finished again, Berenger smiled lazily up at him. “What,” said Ancel. 

“What?” said Berenger. 

“You’re looking at me.”

“You like being looked at.”

Ancel smirked. “And so you’ll do what I like?”

“Yes,” Berenger said, and his smile dropped away, became something infinitely more tender. “Yes, Ancel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to shoot myself in the foot but I plan to write at least one more chapter of this. And this time it WILL be porn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ancel deals with some shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos! It means a lot that people are enjoying this, and I hope this chapter is...interesting, if not exactly fun.

“Do you think you’ll find someone to marry here?” Ancel asked as he laced Berenger’s sleeve the morning they were due to arrive in Ios. 

“What?” 

“It would make sense for the courts to strengthen their connections.“ Ancel cast a critical eye over the fit of Berenger’s shirt and stepped behind him to adjust the ties at his waist. “You might even get a pretty piece of Akielon land out of it.”

In the mirror, Berenger was wearing the expression that meant he had no idea what Ancel was talking about but was too polite to stop him. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But I do not have any plans to court an Akielon.”

Ancel clicked his tongue. “Well, think about it. This could be a rare opportunity for you.”

He could feel the tension in Berenger’s shoulders. “What would you do if I married?”

“That would depend on whether you maintained my contract, wouldn’t it?” Ancel adopted a smirk and tucked his chin down against Berenger’s shoulder, arms coming around Berenger’s waist. “But I think you’d find that a pet still has charms that a spouse cannot offer.”

“Indeed.” Berenger patted at Ancel’s forearm and Ancel let him go, stepped back to allow him space. “And you?”

“And I...?”

“Will you marry?”

Ancel raised an eyebrow. “I am a pet.”

“And that prevents you?”

“It prevents _others._ You know what people think.” Ancel shook his head. “I’ll make what I can of myself now and then do as I please after I retire.”

Berenger was watching him. “And there is no other path?” Ancel opened his mouth to answer, but Berenger said first, “Does it please you, to be a pet?”

This was a dangerous game to play. Ancel glanced at him through his eyelashes, coy. “It pleases me to be _your_ pet, my lord.” Berenger looked as though he would say something else, so Ancel laced their fingers together and covered Berenger’s mouth with his own. Better not to let the truth out, he thought; better to be thought cold and self-serving than allow Berenger to make a fool of himself. 

—

Ios was, annoyingly, breathtaking. Ancel had heard much of the limestone cliffs, but stories paled in comparison to the real thing. He bullied over the guard driving the cart so that he could share the bench as they drew closer. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Berenger asked, pulling his horse alongside. 

“It’s nice enough,” Ancel said, drinking it in. “Could do with a coat of paint.” 

Berenger snorted. From behind him, a cool voice said, “I’ll be sure to suggest it to King Damianos.” 

Ancel whipped to see King Laurent joining them. He didn’t actually look offended, but it was hard to tell with him. Ancel lowered his eyes and said, “Your Majesty.”

“He insists it reflects purity and strength. I say it’s a lack of imagination.” 

“Is that a problem for him?” Ancel asked, eyes flicking up to Laurent’s. “A lack of imagination?”

A smirk flitted over Laurent’s face. “No.” He trotted forward, to the front of their caravan. Ancel watched the motion of his ass as he rode. 

“Stop staring,” Berenger muttered. 

“Like you’re not,” Ancel retorted. A glance confirmed that Berenger was blushing. Ancel let his eyes slide openly up and down Berenger’s body; Berenger went an even brighter red and kicked his horse to join Laurent. Ancel went back to staring at the white walls of Ios and ignored the anxious knot settling in his stomach.

—

To Ancel’s surprise, they were greeted in the Veretian fashion. That was the King’s personal courtesy, he assumed; he could hardly imagine that the court was in favor of it. The slaves who took their belongings were dressed rather conservatively—“I’ve only seen one nipple so far,” he remarked to Berenger, who rolled his eyes. They were led to a spacious room and informed in accented Veretian that dinner would be held in two hours, and that they were welcome to bathe and request whatever other services they might desire before then. It was an unsubtle invitation to use the slaves, but Ancel kept his mouth shut as Berenger thanked the messenger and sent him out.

When he had gone, it was only the two of them. Berenger looked at Ancel, who looked back at him. “What do you think?”

“It’s lovely,” said Ancel. “You can almost forget who is employed to make it so. Or not _employed,_ are they?”

Berenger sighed and stepped closer to him. He cupped Ancel’s face in his hands, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Would you like me to have them dismissed?”

Ancel toyed with the lace at Berenger’s wrist. His skin felt suddenly hot and itchy, and there was an uncomfortable tension in his chest. “It’s fine.”

“It’s no trouble,” Berenger insisted. “Laurent assured me that King Damianos—”

Ancel jerked back. “You told Laurent?”

Berenger stared at him. “Yes, I—he knows Akielon, he knows what is acceptable. He knows Damianos. He’s the _king,_ Ancel.” Ancel said nothing. Berenger frowned, his eyes soft with worry. “Ancel, please tell me if I’ve done something to offend you. I was trying to help.”

“I know. It’s fine.” A lie, and one that Berenger clearly didn’t believe. Ancel turned away. “Come, let me bathe you.” A moment, and then Berenger’s hands caught him around the waist. Berenger’s mouth pressed to the back of Ancel’s neck. Ancel allowed it, the kisses to his jaw and the gentle thumbing of his nipples. This was Berenger trying to apologize in a language that Ancel spoke. Berenger’s palm came to rest over Ancel’s breastbone: a question. 

Ancel answered by tugging Berenger to the bath.

—

Dinner was a long, strange affair, full of stuttering translations and awkward gestures of hospitality. Ancel drank more than he should, because that made it easier to look at Berenger or Laurent or Damianos—_Damen,_ he thought viciously. Damen, whose cock he had tasted. He wondered if the Akielos court knew about _that._

When they returned to their room Ancel flung himself onto the low couch near the fire. He observed through wine-drunk eyes as Berenger puttered about, poking at the fire and washing his face in the bathroom. He knew he was being a brat, and not in the way a pet should be, but there was a raw aching in him that he couldn’t soothe.

A slave girl came in to turn down the bed, dressed in a swirl of transparent cloth, and Ancel watched Berenger watching her. She was pretty enough, Ancel supposed, if your tastes ran to the silently obedient. He assumed his own presence fulfilled the Veretian requirement of a chaperone while allowing for Berenger to take advantage of Akielon customs, should he so choose. Perhaps the Akielons assumed them so perverse as to want to share her. 

Berenger’s eyes traced the outline of her breast, and Ancel said, “Would you like to fuck her?”

Berenger startled at the same time the girl did, although he didn’t drop to the floor. Ancel didn’t acknowledge her, just smiled sweetly at Berenger. “It’s not taboo here, after all. I know it must have been ages since you tasted a cunt.”

_“Ancel!”_

“Here, I’ll help,” Ancel said, standing, but Berenger was faster. He tapped the girl’s shoulder and said something in quiet, halting Akielon that made her rise and tiptoe out of the room with her eyes fixed on the floor. 

Berenger turned to him and Ancel realized through the haze of alcohol that he was, actually, angry. “There is no need to be cruel to a woman doing her duty,” Berenger said, his tone measured. 

“It’s not like she can understand me,” Ancel retorted. 

“Yes, but I can, and it’s not—” Berenger cut himself off. He looked very tired all of a sudden, and when he sat back in a chair Ancel went to him more out of habit than anything. He stroked a hand over Berenger’s hair, and Berenger turned his head to kiss his wrist. 

Ancel said, “I mean it, you know. You can fuck one of them if that is your,” he forced out the word, “_preference._ Even one of the boys.”

“Ancel,” said Berenger, “I prefer _you.”_ A beat of silence, and then, quietly, “I don’t know what I can do to make you believe that.”

Ancel’s throat was painfully tight. Berenger stroked the backs of his fingers over Ancel’s forearm, his expression too open. “You can buy me another set of emeralds,” Ancel said, letting his mouth curl up at the edges. “That would certainly help convince me.”

Berenger’s face shuttered. His hand withdrew. Ancel kept the smile on. “I see,” said Berenger. He stood, and Ancel did not follow when he left the room. 

Later, Ancel slipped naked into their bed. Berenger woke, slid his hand over Ancel’s chest, and then fell back asleep. Ancel lay awake for some time longer, his fingers laced with Berenger’s over his heart.


End file.
